


Body Work

by LittleLynn



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mechanic!Hank, android detective connor, connor has a few issues with his car, then creates issues with it because he likes the mechanic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 16:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17687021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn
Summary: It was highly illogical to deliberately break his car just to have en excuse to talk to the mechanic, yet here Connor was, ripping out the radio wires.





	Body Work

**Author's Note:**

> I played DBH finally and shipping happened, this is the result. Big love to Becks for all the encouragement. 
> 
> Warnings for the themes that tend to accompany Hank and one scene were Connor is injured and needs patching up!
> 
> Also fair warning that this is not betaed! Expect briticisms!

 

“I can fix it myself,” Connor insisted, for the fourth time and a little weakly. The car was wrecked, engine steaming, bullet holes buried in the bonnet, and there was a strange smell; truthfully he didn’t have the first clue how to fix it, but surely he would be able to download the information and do the necessary work fast enough. 

Driverless cars weren’t so good at chasing things, so he’d taken one of the few manual ones the station still had, but the suspect had started firing wildly at the car, causing the engine to do something and Connor to crash the car. He’s caught them, at least. Connor fought the most alien urge to fidget, fingers itching for his coin, as his gut - which of course he didn’t even  _ have _ \- coiled uncomfortably. 

That was an emotion that had come along with deviancy which Connor did not like; anxiety. 

He didn’t want to make trouble, and the car certainly looked like trouble. Fowler had kept him on after the andriod revolution, though Connor suspected that was mainly borne out of the sudden shortage of staff than a genuine desire to have him there. As such, Connor didn’t want to seem like more trouble than he was worth, and was offering to fix the car himself.  

“Really I’m sure I can just download the necessary information.” Connor tried, eyes on Fowler and ignoring the gesture Reed was sending his way. 

Fowler pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. Connor wondered why humans did that, but recognised it as a sign of irritation. He found the coin in his pocket.

“Connor you caught a dangerous perp. The car is a fucking nuisance but our expense not yours. And we need it repaired asap and you on the job, as a detective not a mechanic. Take it to the shop.” The captain replied, he was right, they did need him on the job, crime had only gone up since the revolution - or rather, a whole spate of new things counted as crimes now. They were busy, they wanted Connor working, he wished there were time for him to do both. 

“Yes captain.” Connor tilted his head slightly, LED spinning yellow as he searched for a reputable car garage that was still running in the current chaos, he only found two. 

“Take it here.” Fowler grumbled, rendering Connor’s search redundant as he scribbled on a half-torn post-it note and handed it over to Connor. “Old buddy of mine. Well. Sorta. Hank Anderson. He’s an asshole but he’s good at fixing cars. Won’t try to rob you for the pleasure either.”

Connor thanked him and called a tow for the car and got as much work done as he could before it arrived, hoping to make up for his inconvenience today. 

When the tow arrived the driver scowled at his LED but didn’t object when Connor hopped into the cab for a ride. As the drove he ran a check on  _ Hank’s Garage _ \- not a very imaginative name, and that was coming from an android. The reviews on the place were average at best, why it hadn’t shown up in Connor’s search. Good work but poor customer service seemed to be the overall stance. Connor adjusted his tie and tried to control his perpetual cowlick, though he knew it was futile; cyberlife decided it was aesthetically pleasing, so there it was. 

The garage was small, the truck leaving the car outside as there was no clear place to leave it and no one to greet them at the door. Suddenly Connor worried that he should have called ahead, to let Mr Anderson know he was coming. It was possible he would be busy, after all. 

Connor knocked on the door and let himself into the shop, calling out as he went; “Hello? I’m looking for Mr Anderson.”

Instead of a human response, Connor was greeted by a deep  _ boof _ and a large St Bernard lumbering out of a dog bed set up in a corner. Connor smiled freely, he no longer feeling the need to repress his smiles unless intended to manipulate. He  _ liked _ dogs. That certainly hadn’t been in his programming. Dogs were considered irrelevant at best and distracting at worst by his initial programming. 

_ Ha, look at me now Amanda _ Connor thought to himself as he knelt down and allowed himself to be thoroughly distracted by the friendly dog. 

“Good dog,” Connor said with a smile, rubbing the dog’s neck and shoulders, grin widening as it panted louder and tongue lolled out as it enjoyed Connor’s attention. He would like to get a dog, Connor thought, but he spent too long at the station every day. Connor laughed and smiled even wider as Sumo licked his face, batting away all the analysis that popped up in his vision. He wasn’t built to smile like this, he wondered if it might break his face if he did it too much. That was a depressing thought, he liked smiling. 

“Ah Sumo, back, leave the customer alone he doesn’t want your spit all over him.” An exasperated voice called from the doorway, the dog, Sumo, dutifully backed off. Connor stood up, giving him one last pat on the head before redirecting his attention. 

“It’s fine, I like dogs.” Connor said, the man - Hank Anderson presumably - was wiping big hands on a greasy rag, greasy enough that Connor was sure it was not helping the state of his hands at all.

Connor couldn’t help but run a scan. He tried not to do it so much outside of work, but it was difficult. And he found Hank, interesting. Though if asked why, he couldn’t have said. The scan told him the basics; Hank Anderson, 6”4’, 54 years old, male, mechanic. It also told him a few things that reminded Connor why he was trying not to scan people in everyday life anymore. Access to the DPD databases gave Connor a lot more information than he had a right to in this moment. Hank Anderson, former lieutenant with the DPD, large Red Ice drugs bust when he was young, then everything started to go wrong for some reason, and his disciplinary file was so large it took Connor’s advanced processors a few seconds to get through it all. Eventually he had got himself fired, and now here he was.

“You alright there? Look at bit spaced out” Hank asked, making Connor shake off the last of his scans and notice that Hank was scowling at his LED. 

“Yes. Sorry. I work for the DPD, Captain Fowler said you might be able to help me.” Connor said, tilting his head in the direction of the car, still out on the street. 

“Thought you lot’d just be able to fix it yourselves.” Hank grumbled, leading the way outside.

“I did offer. But Captain Fowler insisted I bring it to a garage. He recommended yours.” Connor replied, following the mechanic, who ground promptly to a halt on the sidewalk. 

“Oh fucking Jesus. What the hell did you do to it?”

“I would argue that I didn’t do anything to it, the individual who shot it did.”

“It isn’t gunna be a quick job,” Hank grumbled, sticking a finger through one of the holes in the body work. “Probably be better off getting a new one.”

“Manual cars have become very expensive to acquire in recent years.” Connor replied, it was making him anxious again though, he didn’t want to have cost the department a car, or any money. 

“You can tell Jeffery I’m not doing him a fucking discount.”

“But you can fix it?” Connor asked, he sounded hopeful, Hank scowled at him again, and his LED, no doubt spinning yellow. 

“Yeah. Ain’t gunna be a fast job though, body work is a bitch. And fuck knows what you’ve done to the engine.”Hank replied in his surly way, Connor understood why the customer service was always rated so lowly. He found he didn’t mind though, smiling when hearing he hadn’t written off the car. 

“Thank you, Mr Anderson. When will I be able to pick the car up?” 

Hank shrugged. “Won’t know till I get a proper look at it. Gunne be a week, at least, probably more.”

“I will leave you my phone number.” Connor said, LED whirling yellow as he connected to Hank’s phone and programmed in a number that would contact Connor directly. “My name is Connor.”

“Connor what?”

“Just Connor.” 

“Weird,” Hank muttered under his breath, Connor wasn’t sure why it was weird, androids didn’t have last names, some of them hadn’t even had names. “Whatever, just Connor, I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

 

\------------

 

In the end, it was almost three weeks before Hank sent him a text telling him the car was ready. Connor had regretted not getting the garage’s phone number - strangely not listed on the internet, Connor could only assume because Hank did not like to be contacted - but he figured that he would have only irritated the man by contacting him. Nagging, it would likely be seen as. He’d almost dropped by as well, but decided that would be more unwelcome than a phone call. 

_ It’s as good as it’s gunna get. Come pick it up, it’s cluttering up my shop _

Hank had texted him, not bothering to sign his name, but it was hardly a challenge to work out who would send him such a message. Especially as the only other people who ever contacted him were the captain about work, or very occasionally Markus, usually trying to get him to join in on a group activity. Occasionally Connor accepted, but he always felt awkward around Markus’ friends, individuals who had fought tooth and nail for android freedom; meanwhile for the majority of the fight, Connor had worked against them. 

Markus always insisted that what really matter was what Connor had done after he had broken free, would claim that they wouldn’t be where they were now if Connor hadn’t freed the androids in storage at Cyberlife. Connor doubted that was true, they would have found a way, though he didn’t doubt Markus’ sincerity. Either way, he couldn’t help but feel out of place around Markus’ friends, usually finding himself distracted with thoughts of the deviants he had caught, left hanging deactivated and mostly destroyed in the evidence locker for so long. 

Connor shook the thought off and clocked out on time for once to go and pick the car up. He explained to the captain before he went why he was leaving, the captain pinched the bridge of his nose again and told him it was the end of the day, he didn’t have to explain why he was leaving and he didn’t have to come back. Then he yelled at him about not paying for the car himself and gave him the details to an expenses account for the DPD. 

When he got to the garage, there was a closed sign on the door, he should have realised that would likely be the case and felt stupid for a moment, but he hadn’t wanted to take time out of his work day to collect a problem he created. Connor rang the bell anyway, and hoped for the best. When there was no answer, he rang it again, holding the button down for seven seconds precisely. 

“Fucking  _ shut up _ . I’m coming. And we’re closed anyway!” Hank’s yelling floated out to Connor at the door, he waited a few moments before the door was wrenched open angrily. “What, can’t plastics read anymore?” Hank grit out, Connor’s olfactory sensors picked up alcohol on his breath. His shaggy grey hair was tied back loosely this time, dressed sloppily, a ketchup stain on his shirt along with all the grease. His eyes were squinting, he looked tired. 

He scowled at Connor before being knocked off-balance by Sumo headbutting him to try and get to Connor. Connor reached out quickly to steady him, warm beneath his fingers, before crouching down and greeting the dog, while Hank grumbled incoherently.

“I can still read,” Connor answered cheerfully, “but you requested I come pick the car up.”

“Yeah, back when I was  _ open _ .”

“The door appears to be open now.” Connor replied brightly, Hank looked slightly taken aback, before huffing out what may have been a slight laugh and walking back into his shop, leaving the door open for Connor to enter through. 

“Android with a fucking sense of humor. Who knew.” Connor picked up on Hank’s muttering, though he doubted he was supposed to hear. 

From Hank’s text, Connor had been expecting the car to look considerably worse for wear, but be in working order. The car, instead, looked practically brand new. 

“Shut your mouth, you look like a fish.” Hank grunted, making Connor realise that his mouth was indeed hanging open, he snapped it shut but continued to stare. “Something wrong with it?”

“Mr Anderson you said ‘as good as it was gunna get’.”

“Yeah, and it is. Look if it isn’t up to your standards of perfection than you can pay me and fucking take it elsewhere.” Hank said, crossing his arms defensively before muttering under his breath. “Fucking androids, don’t see why he didn’t just fucking do it himself.”

“You misunderstand me, from your message I was not expecting it to look this good. It looks brand knew.” Connor said honestly.

“Yeah alright, flattery isn’t gunna get you a discount.”

“That was not my intention. I was only being honest.” Connor replied frowning, he didn’t want Hank to think he had ulterior motives, or that he wasn’t willing to pay Hank a fair price.

“Yeah unclench it was a joke.” Hank replied, eyeing Connor oddly. 

“My apologies, Mr Anderson.”

“It’s Hank.”

“My apologies, Hank.” Connor corrected, Hank rolled his eyes. Connor noted the open bottle of whiskey on the counter.

“The body work was a bitch you know, because of the holes. Engine had a whole world of problems after the beating it took and the battery wasn’t in great shape. Then there was the windshield and the brakes were almost shot. Some other stuff was effected to, it’s all on here.” Hank sighed, looking tired all over again, Connor hoped that wasn’t something he had caused somehow. 

He took the papers Hank was handing him, he didn’t know anyone that still used paper for receipts, and looked through it. Though he knew it was impossible, he felt his eyes bulging at everything Hank had done, and then again when he saw the total cost. Running a quick query, he knew it was a fair price for everything that the car had needed. Maybe the captain would at least let him contribute to the cost. 

“Oh.” Connor said a little weakly.

“Yeah it was fucked up. But at least the department pays not you.” Hank shrugged, observant of Connor’s reaction, he had been a detective once, after all. His eyes narrowed when Connor didn’t respond, eyes fixated on the figure at the bottom. “The department  _ does _ still pay, right?”

“Yes but I caused the problem, I feel like I should at least contribute.” Connor replied weakly. 

“That’s a load of bull. You didn’t shoot up the car.”

“Still, I - ”

“Look do I need to shout at Jeff? He making you think you have to pay for this shit.”

“No!” Connor’s LED flashed red for half a second, he was sure of it. “I just feel responsible.”

“Well don’t. How long were you working there without pay anyway? Forget it kid, the department will pay for it.” Hank insisted, it did little to ease Connor’s anxiety, Hank noticed, not that it was difficult with his LED spinning yellow. “We might not have seen eye to eye on everything, but Jeff is a good guy. He isn’t gunna blame you for this, trust me, he put up with a lot more from me for a lot longer. And this wasn’t even your fault.”

“But you are...friends.” Connor stopped himself from saying human, though it was clear Hank heard it anyway, sighing and scrubbing a hand over his face.

“I am way to sober for this,” he grunted, swiping the bottle off the counter. “Just, trust me. He’ll bitch about it but he doesn’t care. Fuck, you’re probably the best cop he’s got with all those sensors, he isn’t gunna get rid of you over this, even if he was the type.” Hank said, Connor almost felt himself blush, he hoped Hank didn’t notice, he wasn’t sure why it was happening. 

“Thank you, Hank.” Connor replied, Hank took a long drink straight from the bottle and shook his head, Connor couldn’t help why, and didn’t get to ask, as they were interrupted by Sumo whining and pawing at the door, holding his leash in his mouth, padding over to Hank to nudge him with it instead.

“Cut it out Sumo. I’ll take you out in the morning.” Hank sighed, pushing the dog away slightly, before huffing and rubbing his head affectionately. “I promise.”

“I could walk him.” Connor offered, before really registering what was coming out of his mouth, Hank’s eyes snapped to him suspiciously and Connor found himself babbling for the first time in his life. “I mean, if you would permit it. I like dogs, but I’m not home enough for one of my own, and my apartment it extremely small, it wouldn’t be fair on the dog to get one for myself. So I would just. Be happy. To walk Sumo, that is.”

“You ever walked a dog before?” Hank asked. “He doesn’t walk to heel, and he’s fucking strong he’ll try to pull you along. I never trained him right.” He continued, eying Connor’s lithe frame. 

“I’m much stronger than I look. And no, I have not, but I think I would enjoy the experience.”

“The fuck am I doing.” Hank muttered to himself, a habit he seemed to have, looking at the ceiling as if talking to a higher power of some kind. “Fine. You can take him. But don’t let him off the leash, his recall is shit, a don’t go too far, he’ll tell you he wants to but he’s getting old and he’ll regret it tomorrow.” Hank acquiesced and Connor’s cheeks ached from how wide his smile was. 

“Thank you Hank.” Connor said, he understood the phrase ‘giddy’ all of a sudden; he liked it. Hank rolled his eyes again, hooking Sumo to his leash and handing it to Connor. 

“Be good.” Hank told the dog firmly, who was wagging his tail so hard it was whacking against the wall. “Don’t steal my dog.” He said, half joking, Connor just continued to smile. 

 

\------------

 

Five days later, and Connor wasn’t sure which he missed more, Sumo or Hank - which was absurd because he hardly knew the man. There was a feeling in his chest that he was finding difficult to pinpoint, emotions were still difficult for him. 

If he was human, he might have considered it a sign when he was driving and a stone flicked up from the road and cracked his windshield. This he could fix himself, he knew exactly how and had the tools, it wasn’t complicated. But he...hesitated. 

It was a good excuse, he knew it. 

Before Connor could talk himself out of it, he took a left and headed towards Hank’s shop. He had no idea if it would be open on a Saturday, it seemed unlikely given their last encounter, but there was always a chance and he felt committed to this course of action now. He found it curious, that the objective in his mind had become ‘talk to Hank’ instead of ‘get windshield fixed’. 

When he pulled up, the sign on the door was closed; Connor rang the bell anyway. There was no answer at first, so he rang it a second time, for just six point three seconds this time. He smiled when he heard bitching from inside the house. 

“Fuck  _ off _ . Oh, it’s you. Why’re you here, I did a great job on that car.” Hank scowled suspiciously. 

“A stone hit the windshield, it cracked.” Connor replied, trying to suppress his smile at the man’s surliness, he didn’t understand why that trait would make him smile anyway. 

He looked tired again, Connor was beginning to believe that he always did. His beard and hair were more unkempt than the last time Connor saw him, and he seemed to still be in his pyjamas. Connor’s olfactory sensors picked up the scent of bourbon this time. It was three in the afternoon, he didn’t need to check Hank’s files to be able to make an educated guess about why Hank was finally fired from the DPD. It made him sad, he wondered what his time with the DPD would have been like if Hank was still there, if it would have been easier, if Hank would have been his partner.  

“Still can’t read I see.” Hank grumbled, but contrary to his words and demeanour he let Connor inside again. 

There was a loud bark and Sumo bounded up to Connor, who let a wide grin spread over his face and knelt down to greet him. He loved the feel of his thick fur beneath his fingers, the way he could really feel it now, rather than just sensors and data telling him what was there. It was one of his favourite textures.

“He likes you better than me already.” Hank grunted, pouring himself what looked to Connor like a triple, if not just a glassful, of whiskey. 

“We bonded on our walk.” Connor said matter-of-factly and and little proudly, turning his smile on Hank, who shook his head and muttered something Connor chose not to catch about androids, he clearly wasn’t meant to hear it. 

“Right. Well. Show me this crack then.” Hank sighed, after letting Connor fuss over Sumo a little longer and having finished his glass in that concerningly short amount of time. 

Connor knew - or rather his databases informed him - of the common causes of alcoholism and he frowned, wondering if it would be inappropriate of him to ask Hank which it was, and see if he could help. Definitely too pushy, Connor decided, as Hank lead the way back outside. 

“Different wheels to last time.” Hank mentioned as he inspected the screen.

“I don’t enjoy public transport, so I purchased this.” Connor replied, it was the only thing he had spent the pay he was now entitled to on. 

“What’s wrong with public transport?” Hank asked, scratching his chin as he did and giving Connor the most bizarre thought of what his beard would feel like against his synthetic skin. 

“Taxis are not cost-effective in the long term, and most buses have not yet removed the android section at the back. I find it uncomfortable.” Connor answered, no one could force them to stand back there anymore - in theory - but it was normally a choice between the often open hostility from humans if you stood with them, or shame and disappointment from other androids if you stood at the back. Before he was a deviant, Connor was sure it would not have bothered him either way, now he found it easier to simply not board the busses in the first place.

“Fair enough.” Hank shrugged. “It’s a simple enough fix. Doesn’t need replacing or anything. You’d think if they could come up with you they’d have invented a fix for stones hitting windshields.” Hank shook his head. 

“That is good news.” Connor replied, though he had know that already. “When will I be able to pick it up?”

“I can do it now. Won’t take long.” Hank replied and Connor couldn’t help but be disappointed that he wouldn’t have an excuse to come back again another day. 

Hank collected his tools from inside and got to work. He was very tall, Connor thought idly, he knew that already, was unsure why the thought was drifting across his mind again.

“Would’ve pegged you as the type to get a self-driving car. Progress and all that.” Hank said, surprising Connor with his attempt at making conversation, Connor would have thought he was someone who prefered silence. Connor didn’t mind, he wanted to watch him work, but he also wanted to talk.

“I prefer to have control over the vehicle I am in.”

“Really, you?” Hank turned around, fixing him with a look. “You see the irony there. Android doesn’t trust the driving AI.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust it. I just, trust myself more.” Connor tried to explain.

“I’m told it’s basically faultless. Don’t hear about auto-cars in crashes very often.”

“It is almost faultless. But I am better.” Connor replied, not realising how arrogant his words sounded until Hank let out a deep rumble of laughter; Connor liked the sound, it made something in his biocomponents run faster. 

“That so?” Hank asked, Connor couldn’t tell if he was disbelieving or not. 

“I am a prototype. The most ambitious model Cyberlife ever attempted to build.” Connor huffed, a little indignantly. He didn’t know if it was something that he was supposed to be proud of, after everything, but he sort of was. Like a child who reached the honour roll, even if they’d only reached it with a private tutor, they were still allowed to be proud. 

“Yeah I bet you are.” Hank muttered, looking Connor up and down before returning his focus to the car, Connor couldn’t place his tone. 

“What does that mean?” Conor asked, Hank turned back and raised and eyebrow. 

“I mean that.” He said, pointing at Connor’s face. 

“What?”

“That. Scrunching up your face like that, cute little crinkle between your brows, nose pulled up, all frowny. Never seen another android make an expression that human before, and you’re full of them. So yeah, I believe it.” Hank explained, Connor wasn’t sure why he was blushing, but he could feel the blue tinge in his cheeks. 

“Oh.” He felt self-conscious all of a sudden. Hank turned back to the car, Connor took in the broad lines of his back as he leant over the windscreen. 

“Right, give it ten and it’ll be good to go.” Hank said a few minutes later, stepping back from the car. “You awake in there?” Connor hadn’t noticed how mesmerised he had become watching Hank work, he shook himself visibly, as he’s seen some humans do when they became distracted, and was surprised to find that it did help refocus him. 

“It’s done already?” Connor said, trying and failing to keep the disappointment out of his voice, he was usually much better at controlling his vocal processors than this.

“Pretty much yeah. Why?” Hank shrugged, scraping a hand through his hair, Connor wondered what that hand would feel like in his hair. No one other than himself had ever touched Connor’s hair, and it took very little upkeep anyway, falling every day in the precise way Cyberlife had created it. 

“Oh. No reason. It was just faster than I expected.” Connor replied, but when he checked his internal clock he realised it wasn’t, he’d just lost track of time. Hank gave him a strange look. There was an odd pause between them. 

“Look. I was just about to take Sumo out when you arrived. Do you want to, uh, come?” Hank asked awkwardly, Connor’s processors were telling him that had a 77.8% chance of being a lie, but Connor beamed at him regardless. 

“Really? Yes please.” Connor tried to keep what humans often referred to as ‘their cool’; he was unsure of his success. 

“Right. I’ll just grab his lead.” Hank said, disappearing back into the shop for a few moments. 

Hank held onto the leash this time and Connor watched as Sumo tugged him around all over the place. He’d done the same to Connor, but Connor was significantly stronger than a human, so the large dog had had less success. Hank grumbled and bitched at the dog, but it’s wagging tail made it clear Sumo knew Hank loved him, regardless of what he said. 

“So, what do you do at the precinct? Sorry. I’m shit at small talk.” Hank trailed off, Connor had been content to watch him walk Sumo, ruffling the dog’s fur when he bounded up to Connor, but talking was even better. 

“I’m a detective, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Hank replied, his interest seeming to rise. “I’m surprised they got around to being all PC and hiring an android so quick.”

“I already worked there; albeit without pay of any kind. Cyberlife sent me to help with investigations into deviancy, in the hope that they would be able to root out the problem.” Connor explained, Hank snorted. 

“Looks like you failed.” Hank replied, his tone was good natured, and though it made no sense given all that transpired, it still stung Connor a little. Failure was so deeply ingrained in Connor’s software as something entirely unacceptable that the thought of it still made him uncomfortable, even though it had been a conscious decision, perhaps his first conscious decision. “You alright there?” Hank asked, pointing vaguely at Connor’s LED. “You’re spinning yellow.”

“Sorry, humans say old habits are hard to kick, well so is old programming.” Connor smiled a little meekly. “But yes. I had a chance to stop the revolution but I, found something instead, I guess.”

“How’d you have a chance to stop it?” Hank asked.

“I had Markus down the barrel of a gun,” Connor replied, only realising his own nonchalance when Hank looked startled. “I did not shoot.”

“Well obviously.”

“It was surprisingly easy to break my programming in that moment. I think that I had been developing deviant tendencies the more time I spent around them, they just seemed so alive. I remember feeling something akin to jealousy, and reporting it to Cyberlife as an error.”

“You are alive.” Hank said, as if he was really testing out the concept properly for the first time. 

“Yes. Choosing to side with Markus was easy; later when a Cyberlife AI tried to forcibly retake control of my functions was much harder.” Connor said, unsure why he was sharing so much, he had not told anything about that before. When it happened, there was no time to linger on it, and now it seemed pointless to tell Markus now, it was no longer relevant. And there was no one at the station that he felt the need to share with. Strange, that he felt it now. 

Connor looked over when he realised Hank had stopped walking, seeing him looking mildly horrified. 

“Are you okay?”

“Am  _ I _ okay, Jesus. I hope Jeff gave you some therapy after that.”

“I didn’t tell anyone.” Connor shrugged. “The AI was gone, the issue seemed to be in the past. After everything most of the androids working at the DPD left everyone was shorthanded, I wasn’t expecting to be welcomed back, but I received a message about a case from the captain like nothing had changed.”

Hank was still giving him a strange look, Connor was slightly worried he had misstepped, but Hank continued to seem friendly rather than hostile. 

For the rest of the walk Hank asked about his cases, and Connor answered, keeping the details vague so that he wasn’t technically breaking any rules. 

“How much will the windshield cost?” Connor asked when they got back to the shop, which he was fairly certain Hank lived above. He had lingered for a while, but Hank had retrieved the bottle Connor was sure he had pulled him away from and didn’t want to overstay his welcome. He had had a nice day. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Hank waved him off, Connor faltered.

“I must insist.” He settled on awkwardly. 

“It was on the house. The shop isn’t even technically open.”

“If anything that means I should pay you extra for your overtime.” 

“Forget it Con. It was a piss easy piece of work. I had a nice day, was nice not to be alone, just leave it.” Hank replied, Connor felt warm at the small nickname he had bestowed on him. Con. He liked it. 

“But - ”

“For christssakes,” Hank growled, he was getting agitated, that wasn’t what Connor wanted. 

“Thank you, Hank. I appreciate it very much. And I had a nice day also.” Connor said, pleased when Hank’s growing annoyance seemed to ebb away to something soft at the edges of his eyes. 

 

\------------

 

It took Connor a while to admit that he was in a bad mood, and even longer to recognise why. It had been over a week since he had chipped his windscreen, and he missed Hank, but had no plans to see him or excuse to drop by the garage. He was annoyed his car was working properly, confused by his desire to see the man, and, for the first time, realising how lonely he was. Emotions were such complicated, tangled things. 

By the second week, when his mood showed no signs of improving, Connor agreed to one of Markus’ gatherings, which he almost immediately regretted as Markus felt inclined to get to the bottom of Connor’s low mood. Connor wasn’t sure why he felt this way himself, and he wasn’t keen to share the feeling before he had it figured out himself. It made him feel vulnerable, and he didn’t like it. 

It was nice to be surrounded by people who he might tentatively be able to call friends, or friends of a friend, at least. But by the end of the evening Connor really began to notice how many of his fellow androids had paired off, free to explore love and companionship freely, and according to their own desires. It had made a fresh wave of loneliness rush over him. 

By the time he reached the small apartment he used as a home, Connor wasn’t thinking straight. He knew he wasn’t, because he popped the bonnet of his car and pulled out some wires and connections that he knew were important, but not important enough to make driving the car dangerous. There wasn’t a single logical reason for him to do it. But he smiled to himself, knowing he now had an excuse to go see Hank again. 

Come morning, Connor was thinking a little clearer, and briefly wondered what had come over him the previous evening when his wipers wouldn’t work properly. He was embarrassed, even though no one knew what he had done, or why, and considered just fixing it himself. But then he thought of his empty apartment - it barely even had furniture - and drove himself to the garage instead.

Connor had expected the shop to be open, very few things shut on Sunday’s anymore, but Hank’s closed sign was stubbornly hanging on the door. Connor felt a little bad, it was a problem he had actively created, he shouldn’t pester the man when he wasn’t working. But then again, so far in his visits the shop had been closed more often than open. And it was past noon, if only just. 

Connor rang the bell after standing on the doorstep for a little too long. 5.7 seconds this time. 

“Connor Jesus.” A voice called out from inside the shop, Connor grinned to himself, Hank knew his ring, it made him feel warm. He looked grumpy when he opened the door, but somehow Connor knew he was please to see him. 

“I seem to have bad luck with automobiles.” Connor said by way of greeting, Hank looked at him incredulously. 

“No way have you busted another car.” Hank crossed his arms, it drew attention to just how big they were. Connor tried not to fidget. 

“The wipers, heating and screen cleaner have all stopped working properly.” Connor reeled off, he hadn’t tested any of it on the way here, he knew what the wires were all for. 

Hank heaved a sigh and popped the bonnet, Connor did not even pretend not to be watching as he bent over. 

“How the fuck did this happen. Looks like someone reached in and yanked a handful of wires out  your car.” Hank called over, beckoning Connor over to take a look. He was worried, then, that Hank was on to him, but he looked genuinely baffled as to how this had happened as he pointed out what was wrong to Connor. 

“Wow. That’s strange.” Connor responded, distracted by the way his sensors were informing him of Hank’s exact body temperature, how he could almost feel it to his left, if he were just a little closer.

“Yeah.” Hank scratched the back of his neck. “Not difficult to fix though. I’m sure you could figure out where all these go.”

“I’d rather leave it to a professional.” Connor hedged, because Hank was right of course, Hank rolled his eyes and tugged Connor back over by his arm, forcing him to stifle a gasp, turning it into a cough. Androids didn’t cough unless drowning. Hank gave him another strange look. 

It occurred to Connor then, that the only other person who had ever actually touched him in a friendly manner was Markus, and that was hardly regular. He managed to stop himself flushing with embarrassment, he needed to get out more. Or at all, really. 

Hank then took it upon himself to show Connor how to fix the loose wires in his car, getting Connor to take them and pointing out where they were meant to go. Connor did an excellent job of pretending he didn’t already know. He got to stand closer to Hank as well, the mechanic occasionally taking his elbow as he explained something, or patting him on the back when Connor caught on quickly. He still wasn’t used to it by the time they were finished. 

All in all it barely took ten minutes. 

“You’re closed again today?” Connor said when they stepped back, trying to prolong how long he felt he could stay. 

“The good thing about working for myself is I get to chose.” Hank said, his tone was...complicated.

“Do you miss it?” Connor blurted before he could hold his tongue. “Sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“‘S’alright.” Hank shrugged, though it was a little stiff. “I guess so. But I was in a bad place, I don’t blame Jeff for giving me the boot.” Hank snorted derisively at himself, Connor didn’t like it. “Not that I’m in a great place now. But yeah, I guess I miss feeling like I’m helping people.”

“You still help people.” Connor said, Hank gave him a Look. “Well, you’ve helped me a lot.”

“Your ability to trash cars is pretty fucking impressive.”

“The last two times they’ve hardly been  _ trashed _ , it was only the once.”

“Uh-huh, for now. At this rate you’ll be back in a few days after having completely totalled it.” Hank joked. 

“Androids are excellent drivers.” Connor replied, a little prissily, it made Hank chuckle. 

“Sure sure.” 

They smiled at each other, Hank expression gently morphing into something more inquisitive, and Connor realised that the silence was growing and he should probably leave. Hank probably thought it was strange that he was still here. 

“I - ”

“Do you want to come inside?” Hank interrupted Connor, and he was thankful he hadn’t gotten his offer to go out of his mouth yet. 

“Is Sumo there?” Connor asked with a grin, Hank shook his head in feigned exasperation. At least Connor was fairly sure it was feigned. 

“You know I’m going to start to think you’re breaking your car on purpose just to see Sumo.” Hank said, Connor froze for a second, before he realised Hank was joking. It reminded him that breaking his car on purpose was not rational. 

“He is a very good boy.” Connor said, dropping down to his knee to greet the dog as they went inside. He clocked the whiskey on the counter again, a different bottle from last time. Connor wondered how many were in the trash. 

“He’s something.” Hank grumbled affectionately. 

Connor ended up staying for most of the afternoon, playing with Sumo while Hank watched, eventually the St Bernard gave up on the androids inexhaustible energy and sat down on Connor’s feet in an attempt to make him stop moving. Connor pouted up at Hank and the older man laughed, full bellied, looked almost shocked at himself for making such a sound. 

He updated Hank on his cases, less vaguely than last time. The ex-detective even had some good advice for Connor on the ones he was stuck on, it made him wonder what it would be like to have a partner. Stifling or helpful? But then he thought of his colleges at the station, and couldn’t imagine partnering any of them. Spending all day every day with Reed? No thanks. 

Hank told him old stories about the people Connor now worked with, and when asked, he also told Connor about the big Red Ice bust he had been in charge of. He told him he felt on top of the world after that, that he had it all, the promotion, the house, the wife, the kid. He faltered after he mentioned his son - Cole - and grew quiet. Connor forced to watch as he became withdrawn, unable to coax him back out or away from his whiskey after that. Sensing that his welcome was almost over. 

He didn’t want to leave Hank sat alone in a dark room filled with dark thoughts. But he wasn’t sure what else to do. For all of his programming, Connor had never felt more useless. 

 

\-----------

 

“No. No way. I am going to  _ confiscate _ your car, it’s been less than a day.” Hank said incredulously as Connor entered his shop - open this time, 3pm on a Monday, technically Connor was on the clock but given the amount of free overtime he worked, the captain was unlikely to complain. 

“The car is fine. But I forgot to pay you yesterday.” Connor said, it was his excuse for being here. He did want to pay Hank for his work and time, but his primary objective had been to check on him, he hadn’t liked how he had left him yesterday. 

But Hank was in front of him; scruffy and tired looking, open whiskey on the counter. He looked like he always did. It didn’t soothe Connor any, it just made him think that what he had seen last night could be normal for Hank - a standard evening, nothing to worry about. He wanted to hug him, but didn’t know if it would be welcome. 

He’d never hugged or been hugged before, but it was supposed to be comforting. 

“It’s fine. I was closed - again - and it was barely work. I’d have no idea how to charge you for ten minutes, and you did most of the work anyway.” Hank waved him off, like he had done last time.

Connor frowned. “I feel like I am taking advantage of your kindness.” Hank waved him off, turning back to a banged up jeep and muttering something under his breath that Connor thought sounded like ‘take advantage all you like’, but couldn’t be sure, and he was trying not to hear things he wasn’t supposed to anymore - unless it was for a case, of course. 

“What are you doing to this car?” Connor asked, genuinely curious, giving Sumo an indulgent head rub as he moved up to Hank. 

His optical scanners immediately dissected the vehicle, and he could see the busted battery - would need replacing and shot handbrake. His sensors also decided to analyse Hank, and a lot of unexpected notifications popped up in Connor’s vision, bemusing him as to their point before brushing them away: the exact shade of his eye colour, the dimensions of his hands, the precise amount his hair had grown since their first meeting, the fabric of his clothes. 

“Just a shitty jeep. Belongs in a scrap heap, but it is nice to get to work on one. Not many left. The battery is dead and handbrake needs replacing. Nothing too complicated.” Hank explained, not seeming to mind Connor’s sudden proximity, not stepping away when their shoulder’s jostled, and neither did Connor. 

Hank let him stay while he worked on the jeep, until Connor received a call from the station; Reed had taken it upon himself to ‘question’ one of Connor’s suspects and had, predictably, made everything worse rather than better.

“Thank you for letting me stay and bother you again.” Connor smiled, picking up the jacket he had shed, trying to save it from being covered in Sumo’s fur - a futile effort it seemed. 

“It’s no bother.” Hank shrugged, with something pretending to be nonchalance, Connor felt his cheeks blush blue and hoped the former detective wouldn’t notice. “Connor, do you - ” Hank started, only to be interrupted by Connor getting another call, the captain, yelling as he often did, even when he wasn’t mad. “Never mind.” Hank said, thrown off-course, Connor had never disliked his job more. 

Connor felt a little robbed of what had been turning into a day in Hank’s company, and with no excuse to go back - he didn’t feel like he could break his car on purpose  _ again _ \- he was floundering. Could he just go back without his car and say he enjoyed Hank’s company and wanted to be there? Connor wasn’t sure, anxiety curling in his components, he didn’t want Hank to think he was strange. Aside from Markus, Connor didn’t really have anyone he spent time with, Hank would likely find it strange that the person Connor liked most was his mechanic. He didn’t want Hank to think he was strange, he wanted him to like him. 

A car backed into Connor’s eight days later and he wasn’t even upset. Smiling at the large dent in the metal of his car while the offending driver muttered about bots with screws loose and tossed his insurance info at Connor before driving off, it was quite possibly false, but Connor’s scanners had been able to identify him as Jason Parks, he’d be able to track him down if need be. 

He drove over to Hank’s and was surprised to see the closed sign on the door at 1pm on a Tuesday. Connor rang the bell in his customary fashion regardless, and was troubled when no response came. 

He tried the bell again, 8.2 seconds; still no response. Connor frowned at the door. Perhaps he was out? But somehow Connor knew that wasn’t right. He cupped his hands around his face and peered into the shop. It was dark, not much natural light getting in with the angle and overcast skies. 

Before he could think better of it, Connor moved around the building, finding another window to peer into. He could see Sumo and the TV flickering, but no Hank yet. He continued his investigation. The objective ‘FIND HANK’ in all caps and refusing to leave his field of vision. 

It was at the fourth window Connor peered into that he saw Hank, lying on the floor with an open bottle of whiskey, and more concerningly, a revolver, lying next to him. Connor broke the window and jumped through without another thought. Sumo barked at the noise, but went back to bed when he recognised Connor. 

“Mr Anderson.” Connor shook Hank - who was still breathing at least, his scans informing him that Hank had a huge amount of alcohol in his system - but he didn’t stir. “Hank!” Connor said, much louder this time, and slapped him once around the face, hard. 

“Ow, what the ffff- ” Hank slurred, waking, eyes moving around blearily, trying to focus as they saw a figure. “Connor? The fuck you doin’ here?”

“You were collapsed on the floor. I was worried so I broke the window. I will pay for it.” Connor informed him, dragging Hank up off the floor despite his protests.

“Leave me alone. I was fine.” Hank whined, shoving at Connor and growing frustrated when Connor’s iron grip did not shift. 

“You were not.” Connor replied, tone clipped. 

“What business is it of yours anyway.” Hank griped, tone taking on a nasty edge as he didn’t get what he wanted. 

“You’re my...friend. I wasn’t going to leave you there.” Connor replied, Hank made a nasty noise at the word friend, Connor tried and failed to ignore it, components twisting. 

“You’re not my friend. You don’t fucking know me.” Hank slurred, it faltered Connor enough that he lost his grip when Hank pushed at him this time, only to immediately have to grab him again before he could collapse back to the floor. 

“Please Hank. Let me help you.” Connor said, disliking the pleading note his voice had taken on, but unable to override his vocal processors. 

“Get tha’ fuck outta here Connor.” Hank growled, he couldn’t harden his expression in this state, his voice held an edge of embarrassment but Connor didn’t know how to deal with rejection like this. He had felt it at work of course, dealt with it accordingly, but never before with someone he was fond of. There had never been anyone like Hank before. 

“Not until I know you’re going to be alright.” Connor replied, eyes fixed on the floor, his smartly booted feet, and Hank’s bare. 

“For fuck sake Connor I’m not okay! I’m never gunna be okay! An’ I don’t need some pushy bot hanging around here all the time making me feel even fucking worse about myself.” Hank almost roared at him, it was enough to make Connor stumble backwards a step in shock, blinking up at Hank. 

An expression Connor couldn’t read passed over Hank’s face, and he locked himself in the bathroom before Connor had had sufficient time to gather himself. Connor looked at the door, but it offered no answers. He could hear Hank throwing up. 

Connor returned to the kitchen, saw the picture on the table, a scan telling him what he suspected; Cole Anderson, deceased. He removed the bullet out of the revolver and pocketed it and poured the whiskey down the drain; though Hank would likely be mad at him for it. He found a scrap piece of cardboard in Hank’s garage and used it to temporarily patch up the window he had smashed. Then he left, driving his smashed up car home to his quiet apartment. 

 

\-----------

Over the next couple of days, Connor devoted much of his processing power to not thinking about what had happened with Hank. There was a lot of contradicting information on how people acted when they were drunk, some sources claimed that you shouldn’t take anything a drunk person said too seriously, other’s claimed that ‘drunken minds speak sober hearts’. 

But his car was still smashed, and Connor couldn’t bring himself to take it to a different garage, even if he knew he was probably unwelcome at Hanks, and after a week drove over to the now familiar place. He hated the way anxiety ran through his blood, he’d never thought he would feel that here, not like this. He hoped Hank wouldn’t shout at him, though he knew it was a possibility he would tell him to leave and take his car elsewhere and not come back. 

Fidgeting with his coin, Connor went through the door,  _ open _ sign displayed today. Hank wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so Connor hit the bell on the counter and tried not to look as nervous as he felt.

“Be there in a minute.” Came a gruff shout from the back of the garage, Connor was relieved, the worst parts of his imagination had entertained the possibility that Hank had choked on his own vomit, or finished whatever game it was he was playing with his revolver. Connor had regretted not taking the gun all week. 

He was staring at his shoes, when Hank came to an abrupt halt in the doorway. 

“Fuck. Connor.” Hank said, surprised, Connor cautiously looked up, he looked tired and shabby as ever, Connor had missed him in the last week, worried he wouldn’t be allowed to see him anymore; was still worried that would be the case.

“Sorry. I just. You’re the best mechanic I know.” Technically true, he was the only mechanic he knew. “And my car. It’s why I came by last week.” Connor instantly regretted bringing up the last week, understood the phrase ‘kicking himself’ more literally all of a sudden.

“Shit.” Hank scrubbed a hand over his face and looked even more exhausted than thirty seconds ago, but at least he hadn’t yelled at Connor to leave. “Connor I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that shit I said. Really I didn’t. I’m lucky you consider me a friend - though I wouldn’t blame you if you doing anymore  _ fuck _ . I’m just old and I’ve got a lot of shit Connor. It’s not an excuse it’s just what it is.”

“I don’t mean to make you feel worse about yourself. I can leave you alone, if you would prefer.” Connor said very quietly, the crux of what had hurt him most to hear that day, worse than Hank not considering him a friend, than him thinking of him as a pushy android. 

“Shit. You don’t - ” Hank sighed. “I’m way too sober for this conversation.” He tried to joke, but it fell flat and they both knew it. 

“Please don’t.”

“Yeah. Well. Look kid, you don’t make me feel bad about myself, I feel bad about myself because of me. Most of the time you make me feel better because if you’re here then at least I’m not sitting alone in a dark room drinking. I don’t want you to leave me alone, but why you would want to be anywhere near me after any of  _ that _ , I have no idea.” Hank said, it was stilted, awkward, like he wasn’t sure how to talk about it, and filled with embarrassment over what had happened. 

“You didn’t mean what you said?” Connor asked, he was a detective, he could piece together meanings from much less than what Hank had given him, but in this he felt a desire for things to be crystal clear. 

“No Con, I didn’t mean it.” Hank replied, looking chastised and wretched, Connor was hit with the urge to hug him, but he thought it would be unwelcome, with how uncomfortable Hank looked. 

“Then I would like to still come here to get my car fixed.” Connor said, tilting his head to the side, letting a small smile play on his lips, his therium pump feeling lighter when the smallest micro-smile tugged for a moment at Hank’s mouth. 

“Aw hell, you didn’t really damage it again did you?”

“Someone backed into me.” Connor shrugged - he had since extracted the individual’s real insurance information. 

They went outside to his car and Hank whistled lowly at the damage. The air between them was less comfortable than usual, but it seemed to slowly be ebbing back into what it had been over the course of the afternoon, so Connor left it. He was quieter, content to listen to Hank bitch about the damage to he door, before grumbling something about body work being his favourite thing to fix, even if it was a bitch, when he caught Connor looking chastised. Things almost felt normal between them by the end of the day; Hank had seemed to slowly relax when Connor made no signs of leaving, as had Connor when Hank made no indication he wanted him to leave. 

It was almost like it had been, when Connor couldn’t stop the question any longer. 

“Hank. I found you with a gun.” He said quietly, sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up while Hank was underneath an old style people carrier. It was easier when Hank wasn’t looking at him to ask, he noticed as Hank went very still. 

“You did.” He said very carefully from under the car, not moving out from under it. 

“I - Were you - I don’t - ” Connor had no idea how to articulate his swirling thoughts, grasping at words that wouldn't come, no matter how infinite his data banks. Hank signed and rolled out from the car, faint surprise when he saw Connor sat on the floor, he stayed sat on the roller in turn. 

“It was Cole’s birthday. I don’t get like that so much anymore, but some days are harder,” Hank shrugged, but it was tense, he didn’t like talking about this, but he was trying. 

“Were you - ”

“I probably wasn’t going to hurt myself.”

“But you did!” Connor was surprised to hear himself snap, Hank looked startled also. “I found you on the floor, you can’t keep drinking that much.” Connor continued more quietly, he had no right to say such things to Hank, but for some reason he was letting him. 

“I’m too much of a coward to pull the trigger, so I drink instead.” Hank said, the defeat in his tone made something inside Connor ache, he felt wetness around his eyes when he looked up at Hank. 

“Stop.”

“It isn’t that simple.”

“I know. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself anymore.” Connor said, soft but stubborn. 

“I’m not about to make promises I can’t keep,” Hank sighed, running a hand through his grey hair. “But I’ll try, at least.” 

“Thank you.” Connor said, after a few more beats of silence he started playing with his coin again, flicking it between his hands and rolling it between his fingers until Hank reached out and still him. His hands were calloused from work, and big, Connor had the dimensioned memorised, but then seemed even larger when engulfing his own hands, small in comparison. He felt like he was holding his breath even though he didn’t breathe. 

“An android with a nervous habit, who’d have thought.” Hank said with a soft smile, he’d gotten up, was crouching now to stop Connor’s coin. 

“It’s to calibrate my sensors.” Connor huffed, looking up at him with what would likely be accused of being a pout, Hank gave him an indulgent smile and stood, Connor mourned the loss of contact. Though he squeezed Connor’s shoulder, sending electric shocks sparking through him and offered him the hand back to pull him from the ground, even though he didn’t need assistance. 

He took the hand and allowed himself to be pulled up. 

 

\------------

 

It took Hank a few days to fix the body work on his car, and a few days later, Connor deliberately broke the radio in his car. It was silly, there was a 98.7% chance that Hank would be pleased to see him regardless of the state of his car, and a 95.3% chance that he  would not find Connor going over without a broken car to be strange. But Connor was unused to this kind of relationship, struggling to even find a word for it, with no idea why he couldn’t get the man out of his head, so he felt...awkward, and the desire for an excuse or pretense was strong. 

“No. Impossible.” Hank said shortly but affectionately when Connor showed up at his garage, and looked suspicious when he inspected the radio, but didn’t challenge Connor on his story.

“Really Con, this is a simple fix. You don’t need to bring your car over to me for stuff like this, you can find what you need on the internet and fix it yourself.” Hank said from the front seat as he fixed it. It made something uneasy in Connor, did he not want him to visit after all? Had he calculated this incorrectly? The chances of him being pleased to see him regardless of his car went down to 87.7%. He looked at his shoes, his sensors didn’t pick up on Hank moving until a pair of curled, hairy knuckles gently nudged his chin up. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be trouble.”

“It’s no trouble Con, I just don’t want you to have to go out of your way. And I would like you to take better care of this beauty.” Hank said more lightly, whacking a palm against the bonnet of Connor’s car with a grin, it made him smile. 

He ended up not seeing Hank for over a fortnight after that, work escalated along with a one off killer graduating into serial; Connor barely letting himself enter rest mode in his determination to catch the killer. He was exhausted and in dire need to stasis by the time he completed the job. He ended up asleep - or his equivalent of it anyway - for almost two days afterwards, his emergency energy reserves in desperate need of replenishing them. 

When he woke up and went downstairs he had no qualms about finding a nail and sticking it in his tire. Oh dear, he thought, I need a tire changed and I don’t know how. 

Untrue, of course, changing tires was entirely trivial.

Hank shook his head fondly when Connor showed him the problem. 

“All those fancy processors, can’t even change a tire.” Hank said fondly, shaking his head and teasing Connor, Connor pouted as if he minded Hank’s teasing - he didn’t, he wanted it to continue. 

Over the next week it was a wiper, the heating system, a dead battery - dead because he had drained it on purpose of course. 

Each time Hank smiled fondly, curiously at Connor, and simultaneously looked a little more confused. Connor just loved watching him work, loved talk to him, treasured the brief moments of physical contact - all too fleeting. He liked thinking about the lines around his eyes, the softness of his body, the exact meanings of his different smiles - the ones he could figure out anyway. There were lots of reasons he kept coming back to the garage, and not a single one had anything to do with his car. He wondered if Hank knew that, and almost flushed blue with embarrassment, feeling foolish over his actions. But Hank called him his friend; called him  _ Con _ sometimes, and never asked him to leave, even when his car was done. He prefered the garage to his empty apartment.  

Sometimes he would catch himself staring at Hank; his movements, his face, his hands, busy at work. It warmed something in his components that he hadn’t felt before and didn’t recognise.

 

\-----------

 

Connor looked down at the flow of blue blood coming from his abdomen. It was a bad gash, and something had come loose inside himself, he could feel it. But his right arm was going to take some time to recalibrate, he couldn’t fix it himself without both arms. He’d have to go to Cyberlife to get it fixed, and the thought made him feel queasy. Cyberlife had been rebranded as a place for androids to go for repairs and increasingly human updates. But the idea of going back there made his skin crawl, as if just getting close would be enough for them to stuff a new amanda into his head. 

An illogical thought he knew, but not one he was finding easy to shake. 

He had been caught off-guard, it was lucky he hadn’t been completely destroyed. The serial killer he had doggedly caught up with the month prior had mob connections, it would seem. A shot had ripped through his side, his sensors picking up on the sound of someone sneaking up on him and making him turn just in time to stop a the shot going straight through his thirium pump. 

He had rushed the assailant and knocked the gun from his hands, but he had been almost twice Connor’s size and the brute force behind his attacks had yanked his right arm loose and knocked something free inside of him before he managed to bring him down. He’d called the station, because it was what a responsible officer did, but he almost regretted it now, as Fowler had his headache face on and was scowling at Connor, not sure what to make of his injuries, the blue blood smeared over his face - the man had hit him there with a chair - and still steadily seeping from the gash in his side. 

“You need to get to Cyberlife or something. Get that checked out.” The captain said with a grimace, Connor couldn’t tell if it was the fact that Connor’s ‘android-ness’ was on display, or simply the gore of it all that was making him pull that face. 

“I’m fine.” Connor lied, no desire to go back to Cyberlife unless absoluetly necessary, and if the captain knew Connor suspected it was, in fact, somewhat serious, then he would likley be forced. “I just need some thirium and I should be fine.”

“Right.” Fowler said skeptically, eventually tearing his eyes away from the mess on Connor’s side. “Uh, I think there are some bottles in the break room. Take whatever you need, and take a few days off.” He said awkwardly, Connor didn’t mind, he would need a few days off to actually fix himself, and the captain’s discomfort only made it easier for him to leave earlier. 

In his car, bottles of blue blood with him, Connor knew he should go to Markus. He wouldn’t make Connor go to Cyberlife - probably - if he didn’t want to, and Connor knew he had the resources and knowledge to repair him at his home. So Connor didn’t have a single explanation as to why twenty minutes later he was ringing the bell to Hank’s shop in his customary fashion, ignoring the closed sign and gripping his side, feeling less and less steady on his feet every minute. He probably shouldn’t have driven, in retrospect.

“Jesus Christ Connor, I should just get you a key.” He heard Hank’s bitching on the other side of the door and smiled dopily. Hank opened the door and his demeanor changed so quickly. “Fuck Connor what happened. Who attacked you. Shit that’s a lot of blood, hold on.” 

Connor was so relieved to see him he tripped over himself trying to get to him, sighing when two big arms caught him.

“Fuck me you’re heavier than you look.” Hank heaved, lifting Connor up bridal style and carrying him over to the couch. “What do you need Connor? I’ll call Cyberlife, see if they can come get you.”

“No!” Connor shouted, reaching out and grabbing Hank’s wrist as he tried to retreat, startling them both. “I don’t want to go there.” He offered no explanation, but Hank must have read the fear in his face as he gently pried Connor’s fingers off his wrist and held his hand instead. It was nice. 

“Is there someone else I can call then? I don’t want to make you go there Connor, but I’ve no idea how to help you.” Hank said, he sounded soothing and calm, even though Connor’s sensors were picking up telltale signs of panic, he must have been a good cop.

“There’s blue blood, in my car.” Connor sighed, it was probably the lack of thirium that was making him loopy, systems slowing and not running properly to try and conserve what he had left. 

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” Hank reassured, letting go of Connor’s hand. Connor frowned, looking down at his now empty hand. He was still looking at it when Hank returned and pressed a bottle of thirium into it. Connor drank in slow, sluggish pulls, eyes never leaving Hank. He looked worried, fidgeting in a way Connor hadn’t seen before, hands restlessly wringing together. 

“Better?” Hank asked when he finished the bottle. 

“Hmm. A bit. Can you patch me up?” Connor replied, tugging up his bloodied shirt to show the large gash in his side, Hank paled.

“What? No! I fix car’s not people Connor! I couldn’t even know where to start.” Hank protested, Connor took the ruined shirt off and let it drop to the side, inspecting the wound. 

“I would do it myself but my arm won’t realign itself for a while yet. Please Hank.” Connor implored, Hank shifted uncomfortably. 

“How would I even - I don’t have any spare parts lying around here Connor.” Hank replied incredulously, but it wasn’t a no. 

“Just get something hot to cauterize the bleeding.” Connor said, poking idly at the wound, it was deep, but not dangerously so. His biggest concerns were his continued loss of thirium all the time it sat gaping open, and whatever it was rattling around inside of him. 

“Jesus Connor I’m not about to put a burning piece of metal on your skin!” Hank looked horrified, Connor huffed. 

“I don’t feel pain Hank and I need to stop losing thirium.” Connor said, before turning a slightly dazed sunny smile on Hank. “Just think of it as body work on a car; you said that was your favourite kind of work.”

“Some fucking body work.” Hank grumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face, Connor felt himself growing more and more sluggish. 

“Please Hank.” He said softly, he saw the moment Hank relented.

“Wait here, fucking christ I can’t believe I’m even considering this.” Hank bitched as he stomped off into the back of the shop, it made Connor smile. He came back a few minutes later with an oven glove on and a red-hot poker in his hand. “Are you sure this is how to do it?” Hank asked weary and wary, eyes on the glowing point of the metal in his hand. 

“Yes Hank, that should be fine.” Connor confirmed, Hank knelt down beside him, hesitated again.

“And you’re sure you can’t feel pain?”

“Yes Hank, or I imagine I would be in a lot of it already.”

“Well you ain’t exactly acting normal.”

“The lack of thirium is making my processors run slowly.” Conno explained. “If the bleeding isn’t stopped I will shut down.” Connor said, an exaggeration, it would take him over a day to full shut down from this wound, but it gave Hank the desired sense of urgency.

“Fine fuck.” He said, poker lying close enough to Connor’s skin that he could feel the heat - strange, that he could feel the heat but knew he would register no pain. Hank was hesitating again, Connor covered the hand steadying Hank against the couch with one of his own. 

As promised, Connor felt nothing other than a strange sensation against his side as Hank did as he was asked, running the fiery hot metal over his synthetic skin and successfully welding over the gash. He looked nervously at Connor, once he was done.

“Thank you Hank.” Connor said, noticing that his fingers had began stroking over Hank’s hand. He didn’t stop, didn’t want to.

“Right. Uh. I’ll just, get rid of this.” Hank said awkwardly, moving his hand away from Connor’s with what he hoped was reluctance, but was unsure if he was projecting his own feelings or not. 

Connor reached for a second bottle of thirium as Hank left the room, drinking it slowly and feeling his head begin to settle. 

“You good?” Hank asked, a little gruffly, when he reentered the room, standing awkwardly in the doorway. 

“Better, but I wondered if I could have your help with one other thing.” Connor asked, biting his lip, knowing there was a chance that Hank would refuse this request, as it was not urgent, just uncomfortable. 

“Uh sure, what is it?” Hank asked, coming back to the couch and standing over Connor, looking like he didn’t know whether to crouch, stand or sit beside him. Connor didn’t mind, comforted by his closeness as he usually was. 

“There is something loose inside my chest. With my arm I fear I lack the dexterity to find it and return it to its rightful place. Would you do it?” 

“You mean, stick my hand in, in your actual chest?” Hank asked, paling a little again, Connor felt guilty. He should have gone to Markus, but selfishly, he was glad he had come here instead, Hank calmed him. 

“Only if you don’t mind. I know it is strange for you, but the component is an uncomfortable sensation. Sorry, I should not have asked.”

“No, it’s fine Con. Just weird.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, you need help, I’ll help.”

“Thank you Hank.” Connor said, feeling down his chest until he found place and opened his chest. He felt vulnerable, surprisingly so, Hank’s eyes fixed on the thrumming blue of his newly exposed components. 

Do I need to wash my hands?” Hank asked, still awkward, perched now on the couch next to Connor’s hip.

“I’m an android Hank.” Connor said with a cheeky smile, as if it were possible for Hank to have forgotten that in this moment. Hank scowled at him, but his lips were tugging upwards. 

“So what do I do?”

“I can feel it in my upper right region, there should be something that is not connected.” Connor explained.

“I think I can see it, but it looks lodged behind some other components.”

“Just be gentle, it should come free.” Connor replied, Hank nodded and visibly steel himself. 

“Here goes nothing.” He muttered under his breath, his large hand slipping between Connor’s components. 

“ _ Oh _ .” Connor said softly at the sensation, one hand reaching out and taking hold of Hank’s shoudler, finger’s digging in a little.

“Did I do something? Did I hurt you?” Hank panicked, though he held his hand perfectly still. It hadn’t hurt, of that Connor was sure, but it had been an entirely unfamiliar sensation, quite different to the few times Connor had had to do this to himself. It wasn’t unpleasant, quite the opposite, though Connor had no idea how to articulate why. It was making his fingertips tingle. 

“No. Just unexpected.” Connor said, voice breathy as his fans tried to cool his systems down, suddenly growing hot. 

“ _ Christ _ .” Hank murmured under his breath, hand moving again, making Connor’s fingers dig further into his shoulder. 

“Ah! There!” Called called lightly, embarrassing himself and flushing blue as Hank stilled again. “Um, I mean, your fingertips are touching it, I believe.”

They were, Connor could feel it, Hank’s hand deep inside his chest and touching so many of his components, fingertips brushing over whatever it was that had got lose. But what had made him call out was the palm of his hand, dragging over his thirium pump. It was shockingly intimate, the tingling in Connor’s fingers spreading. 

“Right, yeah I can feel it.” Hank said, voice gruff. “I’ve got to go, uh, deeper to get hold of it though?”

“That’s fine.” Connor said, more air pushing out of his lips to try and keep his systems cool, he tensed when Hank’s hand moved again.

“Okay, I’m gunna try and ease it out.” Hank muttered, hand beginning to guide the component through the only clear route out of the tangle it had got itself in. He tugged on Connor’s internal wires unintentionally, and Connor whimpered involuntarily, unsure why.

He’s scans were going wild, shouting all sorts of warning at him while also taking on information freely, scanning Hank relentlessly. His heart rate had picked up significantly, as had his breathing and temperature, right alongside Connor’s pump and temperature.

Connor had a death grip on Hank’s shoulder and made more unexpected sounds, tingling and feeling electric all over by the time Hank had the component free.

“I think I can see where it goes, want me to put it back in?” Hank’s voice was gravelly, lower than usual, Connor liked it. 

“Please.” Connor’s voice sounded strange too. 

Hank hooked the component back in - one of his thirium regulators - and gently pulled his hand free. Slowly Connor was able to release his hold on Hank’s shoulder, and slid his chest closed, allowing his synthetic skin to cover him again.

“Okay?” Hank asked, his heart was still pounding, Connor could almost hear it.

“I think so, but I feel strange.” Connor replied, then Hank, of all things, laid the back of his hand against his forehead. It was almost funny, Connor was an android, but he didn’t laugh, because the movement made Hank shuffle closer. Connor knew Hank’s eyes were blue, he knew the exact shade, but up close, they somehow seemed brighter. 

“You do feel a little hot.” Hank said quietly, Connor still hadn’t worked out what it was that was making him overheat. 

“I know. I’m not sure why.” Connor spoke quietly as well, something about the proximity compelling him to do so, his processors were still slow perhaps that was it. But then Hank gave him a concerned look as pushed his hand up from Connor’s forehead and through his hair, shooting sparks of something from the roots of Connor’s hair right down to his toes, a shiver running straight down his spine.

Connor’s mouth felt dry, his systems stuttering just for a moment. 

“You know.” Connor whispered, it would feel like shouting to speak normally right now, the silence felt fragile, Connor didn’t want to disturb whatever it was that was making the air fizz ,making him feel warm everywhere. “I don’t have bad luck with cars. I just keep breaking it so I can come and see you.”

“Why do you need excuses to come and see me?” Hank murmured back, looking confused, quizzical, asking the logical question. Connor wondered when he had lost all grasp of logic around Hank - logic had been the basis on which his entire system was built. 

“I don’t know. You make me feel strange.” Connor was beginning to say and think the word strange so often it’s meaning felt like it was floating away. 

“You’re the strange one.” Hank huffed, Connor could feel it on his face, affectionate but strained for some reason. 

“No I don’t mean like that. I mean you make me feel strange here.” Connor said, grabbing Hank’s hand and laying it over his thirium pump. “And here.” More quietly still, guiding Hank’s hand down low on his stomach, where Hank so often made him feel hot. 

Hank made a pained noise and licked his lips. It made Connor realise that he would quite like to feel them, and he leant in before he could think about it too much - that was a problem of his, Hank had told him. Hank made a surprised noise, but didn’t push him away. His lips were chapped, but soft, and his beard bristled against Connor’s face. He liked it. He liked it a lot. 

A small sound, like a sigh, left Connor unbidden, and Hank’s big hands came up and squeezed his biceps, letting Connor’s unpracticed, inexperienced, unplanned but entirely wonderful chaste kiss continue for a few seconds more, before gently extricating himself and moving back. Connor pouted and Hank chuckled when he tried to lean back in for more. He’d just found his new favourite thing to do. 

It was strange - so many strange things around Hank - their lips were touching but it was as if Connor could feel it everywhere. Like he could drown in it, and he wanted to. 

“I think you’re, uh, still a little loopy from your blood loss.” Hank said softly, he was right, Connor’s processors were still sluggish, but he still whined, Hank chuckled, a deep sound that Connor wanted to crawl into somehow. “Yeah, you need to sleep, or whatever it is you androids do.”

“I don’t want to go into stasis.” Connor said, vaguely aware that he sounded like a child. “Did you not enjoy it?” He tilted his head to the side, he desperately hoped Hank had enjoyed it, because the idea of never kissing him again was genuinely distressing. 

“Of course I did. Tell you what, if you still  _ want  _ to kiss me in the morning, then you can do it as much as you want.”

“Why would I change my mind before morning?” Connor asked, genuinely puzzled, frowning. 

“Just. Humour me okay. You must be tired after all that today.” Hank reasoned, Connor was supposed to be the reasonable one, Connor was about to argue - as soon as he figure out an argument that is - but then Hank ran a hand through Connor’s hair again, and his ability to think disappeared with his fingers, eyes fluttering closed happily. 

“Mmmm.” Connor hummed, he felt almost as if he was being lulled into stasis when Hank did that, yet another strange thing that had never happened before, and he thought of a better plan than arguing with Hank. “Will you do that until I fall asleep?”

“Do what?”

“Stroke my hair?” Connor asked, glad he still didn’t have the presence of mind to feel ridiculous, a look of surprise crossed Hank’s features. “It feels nice.” Connor said, and the surprise settled into fondness. 

“Sure Con.” Hank smiled, and before he could change his mind Connor turned around on the couch and settled down with his head pillowed in Hank’s lap. 

His hesitation betrayed yet more surprise, and Connor tensed a little, worried he would tell Connor to get up, but then a hand settled in his hair and Connor relaxed. Hank combed one hand through Connor’s hair while the other came to rest on Connor’s waist; Hank didn’t protest when Connor linked their fingers. 

It took a very small amount of time for Connor to be drawn into stasis, the process becoming natural, where it had always been mechanical before. 

 

\---------------

 

When Connor exited stasis he was disappointed to see that he was now alone on the couch, but smiled at the entirely unnecessary blanket that had been pulled over him, and the pillow carefully tucked under his head. 

It hadn’t been late when he’s fallen into stasis, but he’d slept for a long time to get his systems back to an optimal standard. He was surprised to find Hank already up, Connor knew he was usually a late sleeper. But there he was, in his kitchen, making himself breakfast while Sumo lay in the middle of the kitchen, as in the way as possible. 

“Good morning.” Connor said from the doorway, it made Hank jump, he hadn’t heard him approach. 

“Jesus fuck. We should get you a bell or something.” Hank said, clutching his chest, Connor checked his heart; within acceptable parameters. “Sorry for uh, leaving you on the couch by yourself. I’m too fucking old to be sleeping on the couch.”

“You’re not old.” Connor replied. “And thank you for the blanket.”

“Yeah. Well. I know you didn’t need it but it felt wrong to just leave you there.” Hank said, Connor smiled. A silence stretched out between them, it wasn’t quite awkward. 

Connor watched Hank finish cooking himself breakfast - far too much bacon if he wanted to keep his heart within normal parameters in the long term. Connor wondered if he would notice if he swapped it out for something healthier; definitely. Then Connor wondered instead if Hank would let him anyway. 

“How come you still wear that?” Hank asked, indicating to Connor’s LED with his fork, as he ate his breakfast.

“I...don’t know.” Connor frowned at himself, fingers coming up to trace the familiar circle. He’d never really thought about it before.

“I like it.” Hank said, casually, easily pulling Connor out of his turning thoughts.

“Oh.” He was blushing again, he barely understood why. “Thank you?” Hank smiled at him. 

“So,” Hank started awkwardly when he finally finished his breakfast, Connor interrupted him. 

“I would still like to kiss you.”

“Come again?” Hank startled.

“You said if I still wanted to kiss you in the morning then I could. I admit my processors were running particularly slowly last night but I knew I would still want to kiss you in the morning, and now morning is here and I would like to again. May I?” Connor explained, Hank’s startle faded into a softer kind of surprise. 

“C’mere.” Hank smiled when he got over his shock, the expression took years off his face, pulling Connor over by his wrist, the area he touched tingling. Connor’s nails dug into his palms as he tried to hold himself back, wanting to get back that electric feel he remembered from the night before. “You sure?” Hank asked, as if the observant ex-detective couldn’t see that Connor was almost vibrating with anticipation. 

“ _ Yes _ .”

“Alright, no need to be impatient.” Hank teased, before leaning forward and pressing his lips to Connor’s.

It was exactly as he remembered it. Better even, as his senses weren’t slow this time around. His entire body felt like a live wire, lighting up under Hank, those delicious feelings of warmth and safety rushing back alongside the tingling running through his systems. There was something new though, with his processors back at capacity and nothing turned off to conserve power, Connor received a notification. 

_ Enable sexual protocols/pleasure sensors Y/N _

“Oh.” Connor breathed, that’s what that was. 

“You okay?” Hank asked, pulling back just far enough for them to speak, his lungs pulling in the expelled air from Connor’s fans. Connor nodded. 

“Yes. My processors weren’t working properly last night and I was having trouble identifying how you were making me feel.”

“Strange, you kept saying.”

“Aroused. I was aroused.” Hank took a sharp breath, his heart rate rose. “I’ve never felt it before, I couldn’t identify it without the notification to turn on my sexual protocols, which wasn’t working last night.”

“And you have been...notified? Now.”

“Yes. I would like to turn them on. Is that okay?” Connor asked, he watched the bob of Hank’s throat as he swallowed thickly. 

“Yeah. Go ahead.” Hank replied, voice a little hoarse, Connor considered for a second the merits of getting him a drink, but decided he did not wish to move. With a brief spin of his LED, Connor enabled the protocols. 

“Oh.” Connor sighed, the effect was instant. There were the android-like sparks of electricity he already had, but layers upon layers of sensation on top of that. He’s never felt anything like it, never felt as much as this all at once before. It was almost overwhelming. 

There was the heat from Hank’s body, which had been there before, but now it was lighting up sensors Connor barely knew he had, his cock, which had never been anything other than decorative before, was thickening in his pants, his head was swimming, the brush of Hank’s hands over his biceps was making his eyes flutter and lean further into his body. Connor was almost overwhelmed by the desire he had for  _ more _ . 

“You alright there? You’re spinning yellow.” Hank asked cautiously, one hand cupping the side of Connor’s face, swiping his thumb under Connors eye, leaving an electric wake behind it. 

“I-I’m. I’ve never. There are a lot of new sensations.” Connor stammered, Cyberlife had not built him to stammer, it made him feel good. 

“Good sensations?” Hank asked, he seemed to know the answer, by the soft smile on his face. 

“Very good. But I think they could be better.” Connor replied, surprised by the coyness in his own voice, he looked at Hank from under his lashes in a move that was partially deliberate and partially a product of Hank’s height. Hank smiled and chuckled. 

“Oh yeah? How’s that then?”

“I think it would feel very good if you kissed me more.” 

“Alright then,” Hank replied, obliging Connor’s request and kissing his mouth again for long moments. Instead of cataloguing the roughness of Hank’s lips, the temperature, the texture, analysing what he could taste; Connor  _ felt  _ it instead. He felt the brush and press of Hank’s lips, leant into his touches and when he sighed softly and felt Hank’s tongue pressing at the seal of his lips, he let them fall open on what at least felt like instinct. His hands had been hanging limply at his side but the need to touch almost overwhelmed him, prompting Connor to reach out and touch, calculating that it would be a welcome move, graftfied when Hank’s heart rate elevated, as Connor curled his fingers into Hank’s soft shirt. . 

Hank rumbled a pleased sound as his tongue dipped into Connor’s mouth. His sensors were in overload, his processors throwing so much information at him it was almost a sensation in itself until it all merged into just  _ HankHankHankHankHankHankHankHankHank _ . Connor made an involuntary whine when Hank pulled away, but when he opened his eyes - unsure when he had even closed them - Hank was smiling. 

“Was that nice?” Hank asked, Connor nodded in his daze, even though Hank clearly knew it had been nice. “Do you want more?” He asked, half a tease, half genuinely asking if Connor still wished to continue, Connor nodded frantically. 

Hank kissed him again on his mouth, chastely this time, before moving, beginning to pepper kisses everywhere that he could find exposed pale skin. Connor’s cheek, his jaw, forehead, neck, hands. When he reached Connor’s fingers, Connor gasped loudly, feeling his cock jump in his pants. Hank raised an eyebrow and did it again, eliciting the same reaction. Connor had never really considered just how many sensors he had in his hands before. 

Hank, clearly intrigued by Connor’s reaction, raised an eyebrow, before sucking one of Connor’s sensitive fingers into his mouth. Connor moaned, unrestrained, voice thick with static as his processors threatened to overload.

“H-hank I  _ mmm _ -” Whatever Connor had been planning to say melted into a moan and away from his thoughts as Hank sucked his index finger hard, Connor’s eyes fluttering and oddly enough his knees feeling weak, even though that was ludicrous. 

Connor made a plaintive sound when Hank pulled off his fingers, peeking his eyes open to see the older man grinning at him. Connor pouted, opening his mouth to say something - though he wasn’t entirely sure  _ what _ yet - when Hank pulled him closer, leaving their body’s flush and Connor breathless even without needing air once again as his hard cock rubbed against Hank through all the fabric, feeling something hard pressing against him in return. 

“Oh.” Connor said dreamily, rubbing himself against Hank, chasing the flash of pleasure it sent sparking out through his body as Hank chuckled. 

“What do you want Connor?” Hank asked, his silver hair tickling against the nape of Connor’s neck as Hank spoke lowly into his ear; it made him shiver, he hadn’t known androids could shiver.  

“I don’t know. There’s so much. I’ve never -” Connor stuttered, voice box glitching as Hank pressed sucking kisses into the synthetic skin of his neck. 

“Whatever you want. We can go slow, we can just stay here like this. We don’t do anything you want.” Hank murmured. 

“No, you don’t understand, I  _ want _ . I want all of it, all at once, but I can’t, we can’t - ” Connor struggled to speak through his need, the disjointed and impossibly fast rush of his thoughts as every possible thing they could be doing raced through his struggling processors. 

“We’ve got plenty of time for all of it, what do you want to start with?” Hank asked, amusement warring with desire in his tone. 

“Fuck me,” Connor moaned, moulding himself into Hank as he pressed as close as possible but still wanted more, feeling as much as hearing the groan that shook through Hank at his words. 

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah. Okay, but bedroom, I’m way too fucking old to do this standing up.” Hank huffed, pulling Connor along to his bedroom, somehow getting them both safely up the stairs to his bedroom, despite Connor’s persistent disorientation and attempts to cling to Hank, the distance that was suddenly between them entirely unacceptable. 

As soon as they got into the bedroom and Hank slowed, Connor was on him again, only to be briefly swept up and unceremoniously dropped down onto the bed, he bounced with a little  _ oh _ , the casual and physical handling of him triggering something in his systems and seeming to light up all of his sensors in a quick and fast flash. 

“Damn impatient android. I’m trying to do this  _ right.  _ Treat you good.”

“You’ve always treated me well.” Connor replied, reaching for Hank and proving his point about patience. 

“I mean this, it’s your first time it’s supposed to be special.” Hank said, a little awkwardly, clearly self-conscious about the emotion in his own words, but letting Connor pull him forward anyway, slotting easily into the space Connor had made between his legs. 

“It will be.” Connor said sincerely, how could it not be, if it was with Hank.

Hank rolled his eyes but Connor could see the smile pulling at the sides of his lips and leaned up to kiss him, wondering exactly what this smile tasted like. Hank took control of the kiss and Connor already knew he liked that, liked Hank taking the lead, showing him what he liked and letting him learn what Hank did too. 

Connor’s usually dexterous hands started pulling wildly at clothes - Hanks, his own; it didn’t matter, he just wanted them all gone - as Hank’s tongue fucked into his mouth maddeningly, heating up Connor’s systems until he had to pull away and pant out the air as his body desperately tried to cool itself down. 

Hank got them out of their clothes much more effectively than Connor’s random pulling had achieved and for a moment he just looked down at Connor’s now naked body. Connor flushed blue as Hank took him in with open want, until he finally leant forward and run his big hands up Connor’s already parted legs, right up until they were gripping his waist instead, Hank’s hands almost able to meet around him, the realisation making Connor’s eyes flutter again. He felt so small under Hank’s body, he liked it. He liked it a lot. 

Connor’s eyes could pick up everything about Hank, the exact width of his chest, the colour of his chest hair, the dimensions of his flushed, hard cock. They could, but they didn’t. Where his processors would usually be spitting information at him, now all that occupied Connor’s mind was bigbigbigsobig. He wanted Hank to tower over him. Wanted that chest hair to rasp against his skin at the same time as Hank’s beard. He wanted that red, fat cock between his legs, stretching him, reaching inside him. 

“Please.” Connor begged, reaching out for Hank, relieved when the older man came willingly, blanketing himself over Connor, kissing him thoroughly just like Connor liked and leaving them touching from top to toe. 

Hank pulled back only to reach for the slick he kept by his bedside, Connor’s fans whirring madly - sounding almost as though he was purring - as he coated his fingers, pausing only for a second, just to make sure Connor had not changed his mind ( _ ludicrous _ , Connor thought), before pressing one slick finger inside Connor. 

Connor threw his head back against the pillows and keened through his glitching voice as Hank’s thick finger entered him, Hank was saying something, praise it sounded like, though Connor couldn’t make out the individual words through the onslaught of sensation, completely new and overwhelming sensation.  

Hank worked him open with one finger, then two, then three. Connor was more yielding than a human would be, and there was no real risk of injury, but Hank was thorough; not only in the preparation, but in making sure he  _ enjoyed _ it. Connor was moaning wantonly as Hank eased a fourth finger inside of him, bracing himself on the headboard and grinding back on Hank’s fingers and the older man watching him with a slack jaw, blown eyes, and a busy hand. 

“Hankhankhank please. Please I need. I don’t know. I just - I need.” Connors thoughts glitched around almost as much as his voice, but Hank seemed to understand - better than Connor did even - as a hand finally came around his cock, barely managing to stoke him once before Connor shouted out a jumble of static and sounds while wetness hit his chest and his system dove into a soft reboot. 

It had only been a couple of seconds before he was aware again, head foggy and body trembling with pleasure, Hank holding him close and murmuring into his ear, kissing him lazily, anywhere he could reach. Wth barely a thought Connor pushed away the notification telling him to let his systems cool with a short refractory period. He still wanted. 

“So good Connor, you’re so good.” 

“Hank, please.” Connor moaned, voice glitching less for a moment, but sounding wrecked from the abuse. 

“Please?” Hank asked pulling back questioningly, running a finger through the synthetic come painting Connor’s chest to emphasise his meaning. Connor reached for Hank’s cock and brushed the tip against his stretched hole to emphasise his own. 

“You just came, I can wait.” Hank said softly, though the strain of his own need was hiding in the back of his voice. 

“I’ve overridden my refectory protocols.  _ Please  _ Hank.” Connor whimpered, and he heard Hank’s breath hitch. 

Hank reached for the slick and covered his cock before pressing the fat head against Connor’s hole, pausing only for a moment before pushing inside in one smooth stoke that sent Connor’s processors back into overdrive and had him arching easily. 

“Fuck this isn’t gunna take long. You’re too perfect Connor.” Hank groaned, and finally  _ finally,  _ started fucking him properly. 

The bed was thudding against the wall, Connor being jerked up the bed by the force of Hank’s thrusts, the sheer thickness of his cock driving sensations Connor couldn’t even process through his body as he writhed beneath him. He couldn’t think, couldn’t process, couldn’t talk; Connor felt like an exposed wire, sparking and dancing around near water, ready to burst. 

Hank took hold of Connor’s legs and hooked them over his shoulders before bending down to kiss him as much as he could around the force of his thrusts, he was saying - panting - something again, praise, Connor thought, and it made him fizz and spin inside. 

When Hank got a hand around Connor’s hard cock again he was lost, screaming lungs he didn’t have raw and short-circuiting himself into shutdown as he felt Hank shout loudly and come messily inside him. 

Five minutes and forty seven seconds. That was how long he was shut off for, waking up to Hank spooned up behind him, cock still buried inside him in a way that made Connor flush blue and feel impossibly warm, contented, right in his core. 

“Hey there,” Hank said when Connor shifted slightly, “wondered when you’d be back.”

“That was…” Connor trailed off. 

“Yeah. First time I’ve ever fucked someone straight out of consciousness. Good ego-stroker really.” Hank said, voice rough and not letting go of Connor, even as he fidgeted and wiggled around in his arms, Hank’s now soft cock regretfully slipping out of him as he did. 

“Thank you.” Connor said, ducking in to tuck his head under Hank’s chin and burrow into the mattress before pausing. “May I stay here.”

“‘Course you can. Don’t have to ask.” Hank replied, cracking open an eye to look at Connor, stroking Connor’s now-messy hair back and dropping a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Don’t say that, I might never leave.” Connor joked, playful, hands drifting over Hank’s barrelled chest. 

“Fine by me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah Con.” 

“Oh.”

“Do you want to stay?”

“Yes.”

“Well okay then.” Hank said, as if that settled it, and Connor supposed, it did. 

Eventually they got up, Connor content to lie by Hank’s side and enter his own sleep mode, it was the weekend after all. Connor fixed Hank some food while Hank complained about the lack of bacon and Sumo trampled over their feet, wagging happily. Then after much nudging they took him for a walk, Connor lighting up when Hank easily took his hand in the park. When they got back they curled together on the couch and Connor coaxed Hank into water or light beer despite the man’s bitching. And though it didn’t feel like a routine that first time, it quickly became one. 

Connor went to work and came home to Hank, only sometimes dragging a broken car along with him. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Have a top notch day :)


End file.
